Dana Bell - Morgan's Fate

Kir shook his head, but some of the tension left his shoulders. “You’re probably right.” He blew out a breath and picked up his pace. “Let’s get through Alfheim. If he’s behind us, great. If he’s not, we’ll tell him how it went when we get back.”

Magnus was toying with Mjolnir , fingering the pendant over and over again. His brother wasn’t as calm as his expression said he was. “Look on the bright side. If he got left behind he’s not going to run into Heimdall.”

That did it. Kir grinned so wide Morgan thought his face would split. “Very true.”

The trip through Alfheim was uneventful. Skye watched everything with sad, wondering eyes. Part of her was seeing the beautiful blue-green fields for the first time.

The Norn of the Future was mourning her loss once more.

Morgan needed to wipe that look off her face. It tore at him, that she was so sad in such a lovely place. “Hey.”

She glanced over at him, her eyes huge, her face pale. Damn it, she was holding back tears.

He took her hand, caressing her fingers, and her expression brightened. It didn’t wipe away all of the pain in her expression, but it was a start.

Some of the denizens of Alfheim greeted them, more and more coming to watch as Baldur and Tyr marched side by side with Vali the Avenger. They understood something was up. That the Lord of the Vanir had come home in such company had them optimistically cautious if their actions were anything to go by. If they could see Kir and Travis, mighty leaders of the gods, fighting over the last bit of pizza, or Uncle Val cuddling with the new kitten he’d found in the dumpster last week, some of that hero worship might fade away.

Logan would have had a fit at the number of people who stopped them just to touch the sleeve of Kir’s shirt and offer their blessings. Maybe it was best he’d been left behind. By the time they got out of Alfheim he would have been a growly mess and Kir would have been grounded to his room for life.

Morgan chuckled quietly. That would go over real well.

“What’s so funny?” Skye’s voice was soft as yet another Lios Alfar stepped toward Kir, eager to touch him.

“The thought that Logan would ground Kir to his room for years if he saw this.”

She bit her lip. “Oh gods, he would, wouldn’t he?” She cleared her throat, no doubt trying to stop her laughter. “But if Logan has pizza ordered daily and Jordan stayed naked all the time—”

“Ugh.” Morgan gagged. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

“And that baby in her belly came from under a cabbage patch, right.”

“Damn straight.”

“It’s a virgin birth.”

“Totally.”

Ahead of them, Val’s shoulders began to shake as if he, too, were stifling laughter.

Magnus shot them a disgusted look. “I saw them in the elevator, remember? There ain’t nothing virginal about our baby sister anymore.” He scrubbed his eyes as both Travis and Val lost it. “I still can’t get the vision of Logan and Kir’s asses out of my head.” He sniffled. “I have nightmares, bro. Nightmares. ” He shuddered. “It was horrible. I think I have PTSD.” He grabbed Travis around the waist. “Hold me?”

Travis pushed him off. “Asshole.”

Something, or someone, dashed by them so quickly he couldn’t tell whether or not it was one of the Lios Alfar, killing the jovial mood Morgan and Magnus’s banter had created. “Damn. Who was that?” It had gone by so fast he couldn’t even tell if it was humanoid.

Kir scowled and picked up his pace, jogging toward the border and Heimdall. They were nearly to the edge of Alfheim and the last leg of their journey to Asgard and Valhalla. “If it was one of the Old Man’s lackeys, we’re in trouble.”

“Could it have been Hugin or Munin?” Skye was forced to run to keep up with the taller men surrounding her.

“Doubt it. They’re enchanted statues. They can’t change into men, only ravens.” Kir pulled Gungnir from the chain around his neck, the pendant growing until he held the Godspear in his hand.

“Who do we know that can run that fast?” Magnus pulled Mjolnir from his neck, but unlike Gungnir it remained a pendant.

“It’s possible it’s Hothead, trying to get ahead of us.”

“I don’t know, but keep your eyes open. The Old Man has more allies than just Rina and the ravens.”

Morgan cursed under his breath. For all they knew, the figure that had dashed ahead of them could have been one of the Jotun, or one of the gods who followed Frigg. Morgan wasn’t certain whether or not Frigg was still working with Grimm. He doubted it, but stranger things had happened. While she might be ticked he’d picked another woman as his queen, he was still one of the most powerful gods in the pantheon. If he got his hands back on Gungnir , he’d be practically unstoppable.

One thing Morgan was certain of. If Grimm got the Godspear, the first thing he would do would be to go after Logan, Kir and the gods who followed them. He would kill each and every one of them to ensure that Ragnarrok was nothing more than a fairy tale.

They crossed the border of Alfheim at a run, making for that small patch of land where the Guardian’s residence rested. Himinbjörg rested at the very end of the Bifrost Bridge, and marked the beginning of Asgard.

There, in front of the gates, stood Heimdall. On either side of him stood…

“Holy fuck.” Morgan stopped dead in his tracks, staring in shock at the double Logans.

“Which one is the real one?” Skye stepped forward and placed her hand on Morgan’s shoulder.

Morgan edged slightly in front of her. If this went south, he needed to make sure he stood between her and any danger. “Skye, does this look familiar?”

She shook her head. “No.” She shook her head. “Wait. There’s something, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.” She squinted, watching the scene before them as the two Logans argued loudly with Heimdall.

Heimdall stood and listened to them argue as if he had all the time in the world. Which, technically, he did. Heimdall’s dark hair was pulled back from his face. His piercing, crystal-gray eyes reflected the glow of the bridge, dancing with burning rainbow colors. Heimdall studied both of the men before him with a cold calculation that sent shivers down Morgan’s spine. Heimdall’s horn, the Gjallarhorn , was strapped to his right side, his sword strapped to his left. The unusual sword, embossed with the face of a man, was said to symbolize his connection to mankind. The silver nails of his left hand tapping against his leather pants, a sure sign that he was about to act.

Travis turned to Kir, his eyes glowing brightly. “The one on the left is—”

Heimdall pulled his sword and plunged it into the chest of the Logan on the right.

“No!” Kir held aloft Gungnir. A vicious wind began to blow across the bridge, nearly knocking Morgan off his feet.

“Kir, stop!” The Logan on the left held up his hands, stepping toward them with all the caution of a mortal approaching a rabid animal. “Blondie, it’s okay.”

The impossible was happening. The branches of Yggdrassil swayed violently as the storm Kir was summoning began to descend on the Bifrost Bridge.

“It’s me, Blondie.” The left-hand Logan took another step toward them. “Do you need me to prove it?”

Kir growled an animalistic sound that had nothing to do with sanity. Morgan was shocked. He’d never heard such a sound from his easygoing brother-in-law.

Logan put his hands over his hips and cocked his eyebrow arrogantly. “Tone it down, tiger. They’re not ready for Plan A-1.”

The wind died abruptly, sending Skye to her knees. Morgan helped her back up as Kir took a step toward the man claiming to be Logan.